


ship-tease

by Madalayna



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends, M/M, Missing Scene, Tony Stark's Butt, Uniforms, should really have its own character tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madalayna/pseuds/Madalayna
Summary: After Steve, Tony, and the gang get back from Stuttgart with Loki, Steve and Tony have a little chat in the locker room.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	ship-tease

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first (posted) Stony fic. Short and sweet. Hope it is enjoyed by all.
> 
> I might write more to this story as a series with a theme of them seeing each other half-naked and all the feelings that brings up—if y'all would be interested in that. Kinda thinking about writing the measuring session next. Sure, JARVIS could digitally scan and measure Steve, but then Tony wouldn't get to see Steve with his shirt off—and what fun would that be? Then maybe the last one could have some smutty goodness. Maybe the sauna fic that no one asked for but me. (You just _know_ Tony put one in there somewhere. Gotta sweat out those toxins!)

As Steve headed toward the locker room to change out of the sweltering new uniform, the feeling that something wasn't right with how easy it’d been to catch Loki in Stuttgart was poking at the back of his brain and making him feel like he was definitely missing something. Even Stark seemed to think so from what little he'd said that wasn’t some sort of jab at Steve’s age or physique. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from Howard’s son, but surely not such a high-and-mighty attitude. That sort of behavior, such rudeness, was predisposed to set Steve’s teeth on edge, already spoiling for a fight.

Well, that, and Steve couldn’t say he liked it much on the helicarrier in general. Such a big thing like that, flying through the air—it felt impossible. Back in ’45 the biggest thing they’d had during the war was a B-29 bomber and they weren’t even as big as S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quinjets.

He tried to put all that out of his head and keep putting one foot in front of the other as he went to the locker room to change. Someone was there, surprising him. Steve saw the sleeve of a fancy suit sticking out of the locker, the back of a head of unmistakably tousled dark hair, and Stark’s bare back as he faced away from him. It was more defined with muscle than Steve would’ve thought, his waist narrower than his tailored suits suggested, and his…well, best not to think about it.

Feeling like he was intruding, Steve started to turn and leave.

“Don’t go on my account, Cap,” Stark said without even turning around. That air of barely-suppressed annoyance was still in his tone.

Steve felt caught out. He thought _he_ was supposed to be the one with superior senses. Stark hadn't even looked.

“I didn’t wanna—”

Steve froze as Stark turned, one brow cocked and lips pursed in some sort of challenging expression. The reactor Steve had read about in Stark’s file was right there in the center of his chest. It was one thing to read about it in his S.H.I.E.L.D. file and quite another to see it in living color, as it were. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. There was something oddly beautiful about the way it glowed with diffuse turquoise light. Steve wondered if he could capture how ethereal it was in acrylics. There was also a network of pale, knotted scars radiating outward along Stark’s chest. It ran up his pecs, and fanned out across his chest, the pale, jagged scar tissue larger on the left side over his heart.

Stark was slowly unbuckling his belt and undoing the fly of his dress pants while Steve stood there gaping like an idiot at not just the scars, but the way Stark’s muscles rippled under his skin as he moved, revealing the sharp definition in the high spaces along his ribs and down the center of his belly. At the end was a sparse trail of hair going down into his waistband where Stark’s fingers were working to get himself undressed.

“Free shows are only after nine, two-drink minimum.”

Face heating up, Steve’s eyes darted up catch the amused twist of Stark’s lips. His liquid brown eyes slid downward over Steve’s chest briefly but then snapped back up to Steve’s face.

Swallowing hard, Steve pointed to his own chest, right in the center where his star was, trying to indicate Stark’s reactor. “It’s—that’s,” _don’t say beautiful_ , “incredible.”

Stark looked down at the blue-green glow in the center of his chest like he didn’t know what Steve was talking about, and when he glanced back up, his expression was incredulous. “Keeps me humming along, I guess.” He said it like it was nothing. Then he shoved his pants down to mid-thigh in one swift push. His expression was some mixture of amusement and glee, like he knew what he was doing, and was purposefully trying to embarrass Steve.

If only Stark knew what he was really doing.

Steve turned away quickly, finding his own locker and pulling it open. He just stood there a minute, rifling through his things like he was looking for something while he listened to the jingle of Stark sliding his belt out of the loops, the slither of him slipping on another pair of pants and then a shirt. He replaced things in his pockets with more jingles and whispers of fabric while Steve pulled out his phone and pretended to check his messages. He didn’t have any, of course. The only person who might’ve sent him a message was Nick Fury and he wouldn’t leave a message right now, he was a three-minute walk away.

“So much for locker-room talk,” Stark said abruptly, then slammed his locker shut.

Steve turned, not sure what expression to put on his face. Stark hadn’t sounded angry, more…weary.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Steve said, his voice the gruff, low tones of Captain America giving orders to his men rather than the softer, more polite timbre of Steve Rogers telling Tony Stark he thought his technology, his _mind_ , was really something else. He just wished Stark didn't make it so hard to pay him a compliment. 

Stark looked for a second like he was taking Steve's question as a challenge, but then Steve caught a minute shift, a subtle slump of shoulders that was as if some of the fight just went out of him.

Nodding his chin toward Steve’s uniform, he said, “You should come by the Tower sometime. I could probably make you up something a little more durable, and a lot less…spangly.” His expression was wry, then inscrutable as his eyes roved over Steve’s uniform again. Steve thought he must be trying to hide his distaste.

Steve could’ve taken it as a criticism. It was on the tip of his tongue to snap back a sharp retort, but something about the look in Stark’s eyes stopped him. Was that…sincerity?

“I appreciate the offer,” Steve said, earnest but wary, and gave Stark a small, uncertain smile.

Stark shrugged like the offer was meaningless. “Sure. Can’t really see how you can fight with your outfit all up in your business. Looks like you could use a little breathing room.” His smirk was back in full force, though not quite mocking or superior like it had been before.

Steve thought he understood most of that. He definitely understood Stark was making fun of him, but only a little. And he had to admit, the man had a point. It was definitely a little tight in some uncomfortable places. That didn’t mean he liked Stark’s tone entirely, though.

“It’s growing on me,” he said, chin tipped up defiantly.

Stark looked him up and down again, eyes lingering on the uniform's various fittings. “Uh-huh. Seems a little too form over function to me," Stark said, slipping his hands loosely into the pockets of his jeans. "I’m just saying, I could probably give you the best of both worlds.” This time he sounded much more sincere again.

Stark’s shifts in mood were starting to give Steve whiplash. Capricious, that was what Stark was—maybe even eccentric. It was hard to keep up with his outbursts, moment-to-moment. He wondered if Stark even knew what drove him to such extremes, if it just felt normal for him to offer kindness one moment and look at someone like they were a prize idiot the next. It was the kindness that struck Steve, though. Stark offered it without a thought and not just in a way that was no inconvenience to himself. Making a new suit for him would, almost certainly, take up Stark's valuable time. 

Inwardly coming to the realization that he couldn't refuse, Steve said, “I could probably do that." He offered a small, conciliatory smile. “Stop by. If you’re sure it's no trouble.”

“Nah. It's fine. You live in Brooklyn, right?” Stark asked. His expression faltered, brows pulling together, and he quickly added, “Someone, uh, might’ve mentioned it.”

Steve nodded his agreement. “Brooklyn Heights.”

“Not too far. I’d have to take some measurements before I could get started,” Stark said, his eyes on Steve’s, oddly intent.

Steve felt the atmosphere of the room shifting. The tension between them from the quinjet was gone and replaced by…something else.

Steve shrugged, nodded, like it was a given that Stark would have to take measurements—because it was, wasn’t it?

“Good,” Stark said brightly, clapping his hands once, like it was all settled. His gaze lingered on Steve a moment longer. He sucked his lower lip in, and then pointed around himself at the door behind him. “See you back out there, huh?” Then, with one more flick of his eyes up and down Steve's uniform, he turned and walked out.

Steve watched him go, noting the deep curve of his lower back that drew the eye to the ample roundness of his backside. (Jesus, just don’t think about it.) He also noted the slight bounce in Starks confident step that seemed to be perpetual, and the way he didn’t glance back at all, as if this were some meeting he’d planned on and now it was crossed off his list.

Once the door had swung all the way closed behind Stark, the room now silent, Steve was forced to adjust himself to avoid one of those uncomfortably tight places.


End file.
